


Kind of a Badass

by nymja



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Modern AU, Tattoo Shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia Blake's first decision as an adult is to get a tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind of a Badass

**Author's Note:**

> for octaviashieldmaiden on tumblr!

“You’re very still.”

The sound of the man’s voice, low and near her ear, is almost enough to threaten said stillness. But Octavia settles for uncurling and recurling her fingers into a fist instead. Because for the last three hours, there’s been nothing but the electric hum of the tattoo machine between them, and the warm feel of his gloved hands on her bare back.

She grins through a grimace as the needle presses down into her skin once more, “I guess I’m kind of a badass.”

From where Octavia sits, she can’t see the small smile on her tattoo artist’s face.

Octavia bites down on her lip, and resists the urge to jog her leg up and down in tempo to the buzzing. Her eyes dart around the walls of her tattooist’s stall—they’re covered in charcoal drawings, everything from maps to monsters.

And, because she’s never been a fan of silence, “How long have you been drawing?”

The buzzing stops. She feels his hand wipe a cloth against her skin in slow movements. It’s with a gentleness she would not have expected from the hulking man she met in the lobby two weeks ago for her consultation. Just when she thinks he’s ignoring her, he clears his throat.

“I’m not sure. Since middle school.”

The buzzing starts again.

Her eyes drift along the wall, stopping once they see a half-finished portrait standing on his drawing desk. And then they stare, as she makes out a familiar smile, a similar nose, a regular parting of her hair. Octavia swallows.

“What inspires them?”

He lifts the needle and they are close enough that she can almost feel his shrug, “What I find interesting. Useful. Strange,” she feels one of the hands he still has in between her shoulders tense before he once again presses the needle down, “Beautiful.”

She looks at her own face, the details sketched carefully, and grins.

The buzzing stops once more. And this time the gentle motion of the cloth wiping up excess ink has a heaviness to it that she did not expect. It’s not strictly unpleasant. And she notices, oh she  _notices,_ when he is hesitant to roll away from where she lies against the table.

“Would you like to see?”

She cranes her neck in order to look over her shoulder. Their eyes meet, and she’s once again drawn in by how  _intense_ this guy is, “You mean it’s done?”

Without looking away, he gives a slow nod.

She smiles, the big kind that shows off teeth, and presses the front of her shirt against her chest as she hops off the table and stands in front of the mirror. On her shoulder, in the reflection, she sees a vibrant, blue butterfly. Almost electric against her skin. Octavia barely restrains a laugh, as something as close to honest  _giddiness_  floods her. The tattoo is the first thing she’s ever really decided for herself, and it’s her secret. Hers and her artist’s.

“Just what I wanted,” she states, and turns around.

The tattooist’s eyes narrow, as if everything but his mouth is smiling. He then peels off ink-stained gloves and grabs some black, plastic-looking fabric before stepping closer to her. She tilts her head up to look at him, at the tattoo on his neck, as he gingerly bandages the newly irritated skin.

“Thank you,” Octavia says, and, because she can and because she’s eighteen and because it’s a little impulsive, adds, “I’m Octavia, by the way.”

She doesn’t think she’s imaging it when his head tilts closer, his now bare hand not quite removed from her skin.

“My name, is Lincoln.”


End file.
